Part Three
17th July, 2004 - Sunday
Harry sipped his tea and skimmed over the notes from a case file that Kingsley had forwarded to him. Apparently Malfoy had sent him a lead on a serial rapist who used Polyjuice to invade the homes of victims prior to assaulting and robbing them, whereupon he would (poorly) Obliviate them and depart.
It was a nasty business and Harry would be only too happy to put the criminal into Azkaban. Seamus and Kay-Kay had been sent out to dig up the man's potential current location.
Eddie walked in with a barely discernable limp. He wrapped his arms around Harry from behind and leaned down for a kiss. Harry closed the case file, aiming for unobtrusive.
"What are you reading now?" Eddie asked with an audible sigh.
"Just helping out on a case. Would you like eggs?"
Eddie pulled out the chair next to Harry's and sat down. Harry braced himself, recognising Eddie's confrontational expression. "You've been 'helping out' on a lot of cases recently. I thought you had agreed to re-evaluate things."
"I did. And I am. It's just… With this new information coming to light, they really need me right now."
"What about me, Harry? I need you, too."
"I've been home for nearly the whole of two weeks!"
"Yes, but your mind has been elsewhere. You've barely touched me since I've been back."
"You weren't fully healed."
Eddie dropped a hand to Harry's thigh and leaned closer. "I'm healed now." His voice was husky and soft and Harry leaned in and kissed him. To his absolute shame, he kept finding himself thinking about Malfoy whenever he kissed Eddie. Harry wasn't sure what had been so different about Malfoy's kiss; perhaps it was merely that Malfoy's excess of confidence spilled into everything he did, and the kissing had been no exception. In contrast, Eddie was a tentative kisser, barely moving his lips and expecting Harry to take the lead.
Harry pulled away, feeling guilty. He still wasn't sure why Malfoy had even kissed him, other to drive Harry mad. "I'm sorry. You're right. I've been preoccupied."
Eddie shoved the file away. It slid across the table and the upper third overlapped the edge. Harry winced; another inch and it would have tipped off and spilled papers and photos everywhere. "Preoccupied with that! I've tried to be understanding, Harry, but I miss you. Can we go away this weekend, just the two of us? I think it's time that we finally…" Eddie's hand tightened on Harry's thigh and then moved higher. His fingertips brushed over Harry's cock, nails scratching on Harry's jeans. "Cemented our relationship. Don't you think?"
Harry's pulse leapt into the realm of panic. Before Malfoy, he had been so close, so ready to give in and make that final commitment. It was only sex, after all, and most men had no problem getting off whenever possible with anyone available. Harry was the odd one for wanting to wait until he felt…what? Safe and secure? Loved? He nearly snorted aloud at his own foolish sentiment.
He pushed aside his ridiculous misgivings and tried not to think about the photos and clipping still hidden in the book in the other room. "You're right, Eddie. Perhaps we should take a short holiday."
Eddie beamed at him, eyes shining, and Harry felt like a heel for having doubts. "Brilliant! What do you prefer? Beach? Mountains? Romantic hotel and dancing?"
"Um, someplace quiet. Private."
Eddie nodded. "Just leave it to me. You're free this weekend, yes? No special urgent cases that need solving?"
Harry shook his head. The others could handle the rapist case. The perpetrator was dangerous, but not exceptionally skilled with a wand, if his Memory Charms were anything to go by. "I'll be exclusively yours."
Eddie kissed him again and Harry relaxed into some light snogging, firmly pushing Malfoy out of his mind. They were still kissing when an owl tapped on the window.
oOo
The gates swung open as Harry approached and he marvelled at the intricacy of the wrought iron. They had been shaped into two magnificent mermaids that made swimming movements as the gates opened. He stepped through onto a walkway of crushed white stone.
Overhanging trees partially sheltered him from the rain and his Umbrella Charm took care of the rest. The estate looked like old money and opulent elegance, an opinion made stronger when the house came into view around a bend. Roman columns lined the white portico and highlighted gleaming windows and the collection of bright roses that lined the upsweeping marble steps.
A black metal door knocker was fashioned in the shape of another mermaid, and she wriggled as Harry gripped her tail and knocked. The sound reverberated through the house, audible from where he stood.
The door swung open and a diminutive woman beamed at him through dark eyes. "Welcome, Mr Harry. Mr Draco is swimming in the pool. Come, I will take you there." She had an accent, Spanish, possibly.
The door closed and Harry blinked up at the enormous chandelier overhead. It sparkled and fluttered, made entirely of white and silver fairies that clung to delicate fronds of silver. Several of them noticed his attention and waved.
"Is this your house?" Harry asked.
The woman laughed. "Oh no! My house is not so fine as this. Do you swim?"
"Not very well, I'm afraid."
"Do not fear. I am sure that Mr Draco will teach you." She laughed again and gave him a sidelong stare before quickening her pace and leading him deeper into the house. It was so enormous that Harry feared he might not find his way out again. Expecting to end up outside, he stopped short when they reached a gigantic room that contained a pristine pool. The outer wall was a solid bank of windows that looked out onto a grassy sward and a hedge garden.
A splash drew his eye and he watched as Malfoy climbed from the pool, dripping wet and wearing next to nothing. He snatched up a fleece from a nearby chair and rubbed at his blond hair as he neared. "Welcome, Harry. Would you care for a swim? It's invigorating!"
"Um, no, actually. You look invigorated enough for the both of us."
"That I am. Consuelo, please bring some tea. And some of your delightful pinchos. Wait until you taste these, Harry. Consuelo is a veritable goddess in the kitchen."
"You stop, Mr Draco, or you will give me the big ego. But I will bring for you and Mr Harry." Consuelo padded away and Harry tried not to follow the droplets as they trickled down over Malfoy's torso until they reached the waistband of his swimsuit, which was, incongruously, bright red with black zebra stripes.
"Not only is Consuelo a superior cook, but she is also a master forger. You would never guess it to look at her, would you? Give her thirty minutes and she'll write your signature better than you, I guarantee it."
Harry was torn between not asking about the swim trunks and not asking about the forgery thing, and he fished wildly for something else to talk about. "Whose house is this?" he forced out desperately and turned his attention back to the view outside the windows rather than look at Malfoy's expanse of pale skin for one more moment.
"An old family by the name of Beauvoir. You've probably never heard of them as they are all reclusive to a fault and they don't dabble in politics of any sort. They travel frequently for months on end. In fact, they wisely missed all of that unpleasantness with You-Know-Who by locking down this fine estate and fleeing to eastern France for the duration."
"So you're house-sitting? And they are okay with that?"
"Honestly, Harry, you act as though I plan to steal their silver. I am not a petty criminal."
Harry snorted at that and glanced back at Malfoy, only to find all capability to make words deserting him as Malfoy stripped off the wet trunks and bent down to pick up what looked like a pair of black pants. His arse and long legs were in full view, as was a hint of his testicles. The oxygen seized up in Harry's lungs.
"Your suspicions are partially correct, however," Malfoy continued, obviously unaware of Harry's transfixed stare. "The Beauvoir's do not know that I am currently residing in their lovely manor. I felt it was a waste to let such opulence sit idle. A structure of this sort deserves to be appreciated and utilised to its fullest. Don't you agree?"
Harry spun away before Malfoy could follow the question with his patented eyebrow lift, because he could barely register that Malfoy had spoken. Merlin. Harry ached with want. How long had it been? Obviously far too long if the mere sight of a naked man could give him heart palpitations.
"Harry?"
Harry risked a quick peek over his shoulder and discovered that Malfoy had at least covered his (utterly perfect) arse with black pants. He cast his mind back over the conversation and finally registered what Malfoy had said. "They don't know you're here. That's brilliant. Breaking and entering. Unlawful use of…facilities, and probably other things. Are those swim trunks even yours?"
"Of course not. Eliot Beauvoir seems to be of similar build, although he has a face like a vulture. And terrible taste in clothing, I might add." He lifted the wet swimsuit and tapped it with his wand to force it dry. Another tap of his wrist folded the garment and sent it winging over to drop onto a nearby bench. "Come, let us have tea in the gazebo. The Beauvoir's have installed automated Heating Charms. Very nicely done. And the path is enchanted to dispel rain."
Malfoy donned more clothing, thankfully, although Harry admired him in the stylish chocolate robes nearly as much as he had in Malfoy's unclothed state. Nearly. He dried his hair with a charm as he strode towards the French doors and pushed them open.
"I'm certain you didn't summon me here merely to have tea."
"Why not? I hate to eat alone. It's so depressing. But if it offends your sensibilities to meet with me without an ulterior motive, we can discuss one of your silly cases."
"Hardly silly," Harry replied as he followed Malfoy down the path. It seemed odd to walk on a perfectly dry walkway when the rain fell all around them.
"And yet not important enough to drag you away from darling Eddie's side." Malfoy breezed up the wooden steps and into the octagonal wooden structure. It was lined with cushioned benches and lit with more fairy lights; multi-coloured this time.
"Actually, I would like to know what you suspect about Eddie. You keep insisting that I can't trust him and yet you haven't given me a single reason why I shouldn't." Harry tugged at his hair and sat down on a bench. Malfoy sat next to him, not quite touching.
"And yet you've found something on your own. Haven't you?"
Harry shot him a sidelong glance and then nodded. "I found some photos. Clippings. Things that weren't keepsakes or mementos. It seemed more like surveillance. But why would Eddie stalk me? We live together! And he sells Quidditch supplies. He's not dangerous."
"He lives with you now. Were those photos taken recently?"
"No. Most of them were several years old."
"Carmichael does, indeed, sell Quidditch supplies. But I believe he is working for someone else."
"Working for whom? And to what purpose? To spy on me? I'm not that interesting."
Malfoy put a hand on Harry's knee and squeezed. "Au contraire, mon cher. But to answer your questions, I don't know. I haven't been able to discover anything myself, and not for lack of trying. My instincts tell me not to trust him and they are seldom wrong these days. I have learned to rely on them." He removed his hand and Harry missed its pressure.
"Wait, you're warning me about Eddie to protect me? That doesn't make sense. I thought you hated me."
"Oh, come now. Hate is a simple thing when one is a child. I hated the attention you stole from me. I hated that everyone loved you and thought you were perfect. I hated that you were allowed to play Quidditch before me. Such trivial things that seemed all-encompassing as a child. And then I grew up and learned the true meaning of hatred. The things I felt for you became as nothing next to what burned in me when I witnessed horrors beyond imagining. The Dark Lord lived in my house, Harry. I would have given my family fortune to have you there instead. My mortal enemy." Malfoy sighed. "I was a bloody fool. But let us not talk of such maudlin subjects. Those days are long past and it doesn't do to dwell on the idiocy of our youth. That way lies madness. We only have today and, if we are lucky, a few tomorrows yet to come."
Consuelo pattered up the steps before Harry could reply and served them tea and tiny bits of bread with multiple toppings, held together with small skewers.
"Delicious, thank you."
"Gracias, Consuelo. How is that document coming along?"
"It is good, Mr Draco. You know I will be done with it in time to make your dinner."
"You are so efficient. An absolute peach. Don't you just adore her?" Malfoy beamed at her and she blushed and waved her hands at him.
"You stop that! I do not need to flutter like a school girl, so you save your handsome flattery for the pretty boys. It was nice to finally meet you, Mr Harry, in case I do not see you as I go back to work for this golden-tongued slave driver."
"It was lovely to meet you!" Harry called to her retreating form and then looked owlishly at Draco. "What document?"
Malfoy sipped his tea and then gave Harry an innocent-looking smile. "Don't you worry your pretty head, Harry, it's nothing you need concern yourself with."
"I hate when you do that."
"When I drink tea, or when I smirk at you?"
"When you pretend that your blatantly illegal activities are inconsequential."
Malfoy's chest puffed out. "Blatantly? Nothing I do is blatant, I will have you know." Harry threw him an unamused look and Malfoy winked at him. "They really are inconsequential. In the grand scheme of things."
Harry heaved a put-upon sigh and looked out at the rain, trying not to smile. Malfoy was not adorable in the slightest. Malfoy stretched his legs out and crossed his arms behind his head with an air of nonchalance. Except, Harry admitted, that he really is.
Unwilling to think on it anymore, Harry decided he'd better get back and start planning his weekend with Eddie. Perhaps he could come up with a way to broach the subject of the photos. Maybe Eddie would have a perfectly rational explanation.
Before Harry could formulate a proper goodbye, a silvery shape shot into the gazebo and trotted around, tail wagging. Ron's Patronus. It sat down before Harry and lifted its front paws as if begging for treats.
"Hey, Harry, do you know where to find Malfoy? Kingsley needs him." Message delivered, the dog vanished.
Harry lifted a brow at Malfoy, who shrugged. Harry cast his own Patronus and sent the stag sailing back to Ron with the address to the Beauvoir mansion. Within minutes, Ron was trotting up the path with Seamus in tow.
"This place is brilliant!" Ron spoke through a mouthful of something and he lifted a hand to his mouth to stuff in another bite. His next words were nearly unintelligible. "These are really good."
"I see you've met Consuelo."
"She opened the door." Seamus grinned. "I thought it best not to accept random food from strangers, but Ron, here…"
Harry nodded. Ron's stomach was his biggest weakness.
"What does Shacklebolt want this time? Could he not have simply demanded my presence in his office, as he usually does?"
"He's not at the Ministry. I can Side-along you."
Something in Ron's tone made Harry sit up, suddenly wary. He glanced at Seamus, who seemed to be admiring the coloured fairy lights with intensity.
"Well, now, that sounds mysterious. Where is his holiness? He can't be at home either, since that is a matter of public record."
Instead of replying, Ron sent an apologetic look at Harry, took a step towards Malfoy, and then gripped his arm. Before Harry could react, they were both gone.
Harry gave Seamus a hard stare. "What's going on?"
"We took Malfoy to a safe house. Got a message this morning that someone is coming for him. Kingsley took it serious."
"Which safe house? And who is after him?"
"Kingsley said it was 'need to know' only. Sorry, Harry." With that, Seamus Disapparated.
Harry spent a few minutes stomping around the gazebo and throwing random, ineffectual hexes, and then he went to find Hermione. Eventually, Ron would make it home, and then he would have answers.
oooOooo
Draco tore his arm out of Weasley's grip with an oath and then jammed the tip of his wand into Weasley's throat.
"You'd better have a damned good explanation for that," Draco growled. He took in the room with his peripheral vision; there wasn't much to see. They seemed to be in a small stone room with a single, thick wooden door.
"Hang on!" Weasley yelped.
The door opened before Draco could decide whether to disappear or hex Weasley. Shacklebolt lifted a hand.
"Hold on, Malfoy. Don't do anything stupid. You're here for your own protection."
"My own protection? And where is here?"
"A safe house known to only a few of my most trusted staff. We got a message this morning that you were in danger, so I had Weasley and Finnigan bring you in."
"You couldn't have asked?" Draco lowered the wand, but he remained close to Weasley, in case the need for a hostage arose. Draco didn't trust either of them. There were only three people in the world that he trusted, and one of them had stared at him through wide green eyes as he'd disappeared. At least Draco was certain that Harry wasn't in on this newest twist, although he wasn't certain that was a good thing.
"You have a bad habit of wasting time and circumventing my decisions. I decided to avoid that, for once. Here you are and here you shall remain." With that, Shacklebolt spoke a few words and Draco recognised Anti-Disapparition wards sliding into place. He swore inwardly. Apparently he was now trapped.
"Thank you for your concern," Draco said in a tone laced with sarcasm. "Who is this terribly dangerous person from whom I need saving?"
"Virgil Crabbe."
Despite his outward nonchalance, Draco's stomach clenched. Bloody hell, he had been preoccupied lately, not to have picked up on that threat. He'd spent years keeping out of Crabbe's clutches, and paying him off whenever possible. Vince's father was a very dangerous man, and he blamed Draco wholeheartedly for the death of his son.
"I suddenly doubt the safety of this safe house."
"As I told you, only a handful of people know of its existence. We call it The Lockbox. Come along and I will show you the defences. This place is formidable and even should Crabbe learn of the location, he will never make it inside. We're looking for him now, and hope to locate him before—"
"Before he gets to one of your 'trusted' people and carves them open for information?" Another spike of anxiety pierced Draco's midsection. "Does Potter know about this?"
"I thought it best to involve as few people as possible. Harry has been lukewarm about returning to the Auror division. I don't believe he is fully committed, despite your insistence that he should be."
Draco glared at him. "You're going to let your best Auror go, just like that?" He snapped his fingers. Weasley made a huffing sound and Draco turned on him. "Do you really plan to deny that, Weasley? Are you trying to tell me you could have taken out the Dark Lord without him?"
Weasley flushed. "Of course not. But you weren't exactly best mates in school. I can't figure why you're so keen on flying his banners now."
Draco straightened and forced himself to don an emotionless mask. Obviously he was getting too close to Harry for comfort, if even Weasley was questioning his motives. "One does not need to organise a support group to acknowledge ability. If you wish to keep me safe, I would feel better with Potter here."
"Harry has been through enough. I think we'll leave him out of this one. He deserves a break." Shacklebolt's tone brooked no argument and he turned and pushed open the door. "Now, would you like to examine the defences or do you prefer to be shown to your quarters?"
Draco suspected his quarters would resemble a prison cell, and he had limited confidence in the Ministry's ability to keep out someone of Crabbe's disposition. "The defences, if you don't mind."
The tour was brief and left Draco feeling less than reassured, despite Shacklebolt's confident descriptions. The safe house was actually a castle, abandoned by the Muggles and left to fall into ruin, later to be claimed and transformed by the Ministry for clandestine use. Although it sat on the very edge of a Muggle town, several charms made it appear as nothing more than a tumble-down ruin. Such a thing would normally entice curious Muggles into exploration, but Muggle-Repellent charms could be powerful when reinforced regularly. Draco imagined there were still a few cases of Muggles wandering in, likely dealt with by careful use of Obliviation and planting of judicious photos into Muggle cameras, giving them the belief they had visited the ruins.
In actuality, the outer and inner walls stood tall, laced with enough wards to rival Hogwarts. Some of the hexes were nasty enough to impress even Draco, but he knew Crabbe by more than reputation.
The inside of the castle proper was practically barren, but for rudimentary furnishings surrounding observation portals. It wasn't meant for habitation, and Draco hoped they didn't plan on keeping him for an extended stay. It seemed barely more liveable than Azkaban.
"The living quarters are, of course, underground," Shacklebolt said with a smug grin and led Draco to a huge central pillar that slid upwards to reveal a lift platform. Draco joined Shacklebolt and Weasley as the concealing pillar descended and took them down into the earth beneath the castle. Judging by the time it took, Draco assumed it was at least as deep as Level Ten at the Ministry.
The lift opened onto a far different décor than the one they'd left. Opulent carpets covered the floor of an octagonal room. Several archways led outwards, probably turning into a warren of mazelike passages. Shacklebolt led Draco through a left-hand archway. The walkway was lit with wall sconces and covered in tapestries, but the air was cold. They passed several doors and then descended a curving staircase to halt before an iron-barred gate. It opened with a spell and Draco tried not to feel anxious as it ground closed behind them. The place was beginning to feel less like an oasis of protection and more like a prison with every step.
The feeling was reinforced when they reached a blank stone wall. Shacklebolt and Weasley cast together and the stone began to move aside with a great scraping sound that caused Draco to clench his teeth against the urge to cover his ears.
The stone door opened onto a large circular chamber with a raised dais in the centre. A cosy looking chair sat atop the dais, along with a small wooden table and a delicate reading lamp. Several colourful pillows decorated the chair. Lining the outer walls of the chamber were rows of stone benches. The stone floor had been etched with a runic design that encircled the dais. It looked decorative, but Draco wagered it was anything but.
"What is this place?" Draco asked, thinking it vaguely resembled the courtroom where the Wizengamot convened.
"A combination safe cell and interrogation chamber. Depending upon which is needed. Once the wards are activated, no one can get in or out."
"Better to be out than in, then."
"Generally, yes, but you need not concern yourself with that. This chamber is only a pass-through. The living quarters are through that door." Shacklebolt gestured to a normal-looking door on the other side of the room, and then strolled that way. Draco glanced at the chair on the dais as they passed; he wondered if anyone had ever starved to death inside the "interrogation chamber" and decided that Shacklebolt wouldn't tell him, regardless of the answer.
Several more doors branched off from the corridor beyond the circular chamber, and Draco was shown through the last door at the end. It opened onto a decently furnished room, far nicer than he had expected, and yet stark enough to leave him missing the opulence of the bedchambers in the Beauvoir mansion he'd left behind.
"How long do you plan to keep me here?"
"Until we catch Crabbe."
"That could be quite some time." Decades, even, although Draco kept the latter to himself.
"We've set out some false leads for him to follow. He will snap at one, and then we will have him." Shacklebolt's confident tone was beginning to grate on Draco's nerves. Rather than prolong the torment of speaking to him any longer, Draco entered the room and spun in a slow circle.
"I should like some of my personal effects."
"Auror Weasley will fetch them for you."
"And Blaise and Pansy. Despite your assurances, I feel safer with them close to hand."
Shacklebolt paused and then nodded. "I will consider it."
That did not sound promising, but Draco let it slide. He didn't have many options. "May I at least send a message?"
"Of course. There is pen and paper there. Auror Weasley, if you don't mind waiting for Mr Malfoy's message, you can drop it at an appropriate owl post office on the way back. I want to check on a few more security options before we go. Malfoy, there are Aurors on staff, should you need anything. I would prefer you not roam about the building, if you don't mind."
"Stay in my cell," Draco said dryly. "Got it."
"Also, if you don't mind handing over your wand?" Shacklebolt held out an expectant hand.
Draco's lips narrowed. "Then I am a prisoner."
"You are in protective custody. I would like to assure that you remain here."
Draco wanted to gnash his teeth. He wondered how successful he would be if he fought the order. Looking into Shacklebolt's determined placidity, he doubted success was an option. "If Crabbe finds this place I'll be a sitting duck."
"There are few people that even know of the existence of this particular safe house and they are amongst my most trusted staff. The odds are astronomical. In the meantime, we will work on ferreting out Crabbe and taking the fight to him."
"Good luck with that," Draco said dryly and slapped his wand into the Minister's hand.
Shacklebolt gave him a short bow that was probably meant to be sardonic, and then went out. Weasley gave Draco a glance and then looked away.
"You realise that Harry could be in danger?" Draco's tone was matter-of-fact.
"From Crabbe?"
"Of course. Rosier used him once to get to me. Do you think Rosier is the only one capable of making the connection between Potter and me?"
Weasley gnawed his lower lip. "I can't go against Kingsley's orders."
"I'm not asking you to. I'm merely suggesting that you warn Harry. Crabbe is not one to take lightly. If I had my way I would leave right now to set up some defences and get as far away as possible. I know what Crabbe is capable of. He makes Rosier look like an angry toddler."
"Just write your message. I'll need to tell Harry something, anyway. Don't think he'll be too happy about us leaving him back at that place."
"Good. I just need to pen a quick message to Pansy in the event that Shacklebolt refuses to let them join me. Potter is a potential connection to me; Blaise and Pansy are a sure thing. I don't want them harmed."
"That makes sense. I'll try to persuade Kingsley to bring them in."
Draco penned a quick note, filling the page with cryptic symbols and hidden messages, all couched in the bland tones of a missive asking about the status of a fictitious business deal. Weasley took it and skimmed it dubiously.
"You want me to send this? To Parkinson?"
"I do not expect to put my entire life on hold, Weasley, for an indefinite period of time. I have business that requires attention."
Weasley shrugged and tucked the message into a pocket. It wasn't much, but it was the best Draco could do on short notice. He had little doubt the Ministry would comb it for hidden meaning, although they had been fairly inept at deciphering Draco's codes thus far. With luck, they would forward it to Pansy and then watch her closely. If it had the added benefit of providing her with Auror protection, then so much the better.
Weasley went out and Draco sat down at the desk to wait. He wished he was back at the Beauvois mansion with Harry. Before Weasley's arrival, Draco had been sorely tempted to kiss him again.
~TBC~